Seven sons
by Elesianne
Summary: How Fëanor and Nerdanel end up having seven sons.


_**A/N:** I would have liked to use everyone's well-known Sindarin names in this fic because a silly little thing like this shouldn't be complicated by Quenya, but then I couldn't have joked about the father-names Fëanor chooses for his sons._

 _So as a reminder: Fëanáro=Fëanor of course, Nelyafinwë=Maedhros, Canafinwë=Maglor, Turcafinwë=Celegorm, Morifinwë=Caranthir, Curufinwë=Curufin, Pityafinwë=Amrod, Telufinwë=Amras, and also mentioned is Nolofinwë=Fingolfin._

* * *

When Canafinwë has come to an age where Fëanáro and Nerdanel can start thinking about having more children, Nerdanel points out to her husband that they don't necessarily have to because their two sons have turned out quite well: one is really nice to look at and the other one is a really good singer.

Fëanáro concedes that Nelyafinwë and Canafinwë are pretty good as far as children go, and capable assistants in his work, but neither of them fully shares his enthusiasm for creating things and he'd quite like a child like that. And he'd like a daughter. Wouldn't she like a daughter, too?

Nerdanel says that she would, so they decide to have some more offspring – there are still many empty rooms in the house, after all, so why not fill them.

* * *

 _Years later_

'Well, these two younger sons really aren't an improvement on the first two', says Fëanáro to Nerdanel.

'Turcafinwë is pretty and really strong, and Morifinwë is very... passionate', says Nerdanel. She feels like they shouldn't be nasty about their children. It is hard not to be, though, as her right thumb and her ears ache because earlier in the day, the pretty, strong child bit her when she tried to make him change out of his muddy clothes, and the passionate child screamed for three hours straight after not getting strawberries for lunch.

'Sure', says Fëanáro who spent all day in his forge again and not just because he has a big project going on. 'Want to try again for something better? I'd still really like an assistant who's not helping me just because I tell him to, and I'm sure you'd still like a girl. Maybe we'll get really lucky this time and have a daughter who likes arts and crafts.'

Nerdanel doesn't say it out loud but she hopes that if they do, the daughter will prefer sculpture-making to forging things.

* * *

 _Years later again_

'Look on the bright side, dear, at least one of us got what they wanted when Curufinwë was born.' Fëanáro is attempting to console his wife, who's trying not to grumble about their five sons after they get news that Nolofinwë and Anairë have had a daughter after only two boys.

'Yes, that's nice for you', sighs Nerdanel. She does love all of her sons very much but can't help hoping that even one of them had more things in common with her than with Fëanáro. Like her gender, for example.

'We could always try again', Fëanáro suggests. 'Maybe sixth time's the charm?'

Nerdanel thinks that sounds like a very unconvincing saying, but there's probably still enough space around their kitchen table to squeeze in one more chair. 'Sure, let's have one child more.'

* * *

 _A couple of years later_

'Well, that didn't work out as I'd hoped', Nerdanel says dryly to her husband as she gently cradles their infant twin sons.

Fëanáro has the good sense to look sheepish. 'I'll get started on a bigger table for the kitchen. And they can share a room until we can get that new wing added to the house, right?'

'I'm sure they'll be happy to share a room, they seem to really like being close to each other.' Nerdanel looks at the two red-headed little ones clutching each other's tiny fists.

'So probably raising them won't be much more work than raising one,' says Fëanáro in attempt to cheer up his exhausted wife.

She shoots a very sarcastic look at him. 'Right. Well, in any case I think these should be the last ones. No more children for us.'

'No daughter, then', says Fëanáro, looking wistful. He'd have liked a little girl too.

'I think that has turned out to be a pretty hopeless quest, don't you? Not to mention that the size of our family is already a cause for sniggering in this city.' Nerdanel hands the sleeping babies to Fëanáro and settles down to a sleeping position herself. 'I think we now need to concentrate on raising all these sons we have.'

Fëanáro nods as he adjusts the blanket around the twins.

'I'm going to take a nap now. And you're going to figure out names for these two.'

Fëanáro panics slightly. 'Right, two names. Of course. Sleep well, darling.'

He leaves his wife to rest and goes to sit in the garden with the babies. _Now, what names to give them_ , he ponders. He's relieved, really, that these are the last children they'll have, because he's running out of words to pair with Finwë.

Thinking of these sons as his last ones leads him to possible names. _Of course_. Pityafinwë and Telufinwë - the little Finwë and the last Finwë.

* * *

 _The next day_

When Nerdanel hears of her husband's choice of names for their twins she sighs and shakes her head, but she isn't very surprised. Fëanáro's genius never extended to the naming of their children, and that he chose to give his own father-name to their fifth son was already an indication that he was running out of ideas.

Really it's for the best these are their last children, for Iluvatar alone knows what he'd name the next.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** To be fair to Fëanor, many of the mother-names Nerdanel gives to their sons are pretty weird, too._


End file.
